forum what a grand adventure // oxo // open

Started November 30, 2023 by @larcenistarsonist group

tune

I am inspired by one of my current rps, Nimona, and the homoerotic friendship and camaraderie between knights. To say the least, I would like two knights who are good, good friends (who are harboring deep affection for each other). They're sent by their queen to go on a massive quest to save her daughter from her kingdom, one that is currently in the middle of a great war with a neighboring country. The Queen hopes that at least one of the men will woo her daughter and prove to be a worthy son-in-law. Too bad that on the journey these two knights find out that they are incredibly in love with each other and they fight monsters and nurse each others wounds and gaze very deeply into each others' eyes and share a blanket. Gay.

okay! i have a few rules: don't be a dick, have good grammar, give me at least a paragraph of a response, and uh… oh yeah, I can ask for a sample and decline. I'm not gonna say anything about being active bc I have been really bad at that lately

maybe we can do templates or we can just jump right in! you can choose

this looks really interesting.

(All right! My reply lengths vary a lot, so generally you can expect me to, more or less, try to match your length to the best of my ability. They usually aren't this long, though they're rarely short. But anyway, here's something random from a story idea I've wanted to write and probably never will. Feel free to reject it if it's not your style.)

The Queen's health was failing, and so was the entire kingdom.

"Your Majesty," the royal advisor began slowly, her voice tight with concern, "I'm not so sure if your decision was… the best call."

Queen Arana rested her weight against the intricately-carved railing as she looked out over the courtyard and out at the kingdom beyond. Her body ached, and, even leaning against the banister like this, she grew light-headed. It was a miracle she had made it this long without having to order one of her personal aids to help her. God, how weak she was. How much she had declined in such a short time.

The Queen glanced at the young advisor, offering the younger woman a weak smile. "I've always respected your honesty, Nali," she replied softly, trying to straighten herself. She nearly stumbled; Nali dove to catch her. "But there's no other way."

Nali's brow tightened, forehead creasing. "Maybe you ought to lie down."

The Queen let out a weak laugh, but there was no amusement behind it. "Yes, I think you may be right." As Nali and one of the Queen's personal guards her back to her room, Queen Arana couldn't help but entertain the thought of what things would be like if they were different. If it were Nali her son was now betrothed to, rather than to the violent and unpredictable Princess Zarah of Kilthan. Sweet, beautiful Nali, with her strawberry hair tucked into a neat bun and her ever-observant, worry-filled eyes— Queen Arana knew Prince Ezra and Nali could lead a beautiful, happy life together.

But in order for either of them to live long enough to have lives, that could never be.

"I don't like my decision either," the Queen began after they had gently helped her onto her oversized bed. "But I want the Kingdom to make it. I want Ezra to make it."

Nali averted her gaze towards the window. "Yes, but— the Princess' reputation is—"

"Kilthan is the wealthiest country in the east," the Queen interrupted firmly. "The Princess has taken a liking to Ezra, and the King has been requesting for them to be betrothed for some time now. With the Kingdoms united, ours might actually stand a chance once I'm dead."

"Don't speak like that, Your Majesty. You may still yet live many years."

The Queen stared at Nali, and a sadness lingered in the silence between them. "When I die, if Ezra is on his own, the kingdom will collapse. They'll tear this castle apart— and him with it— when they blame him for it all. He's young. Soft. He can't do it alone, and unfortunately, Princess Zarah and the support of Kilthan may be the only thing that will pull him and everything I've worked so hard to maintain through to see another day." Queen Arana let her head fall back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

Nali's shoulders drooped, and she remained quiet for several long seconds. "I suppose you're right, Your Majesty."

"I don't have much longer. I need to tell him what we've decided now." The Queen closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Please, someone bring him in. I need to speak with him."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The wood creaked beneath Nali's quick footsteps.

"Nali?" The Queen opened her eyes and turned towards the girl as she reached the door.

"Yes?"

"I wish it could have been you."

Nali looked down at the floor. "I know."

name:
gender/pronouns:
age:
sexuality:

personality:
appearance: (images and links are fine, just be sure to include a description!!)
brief backstory:
other??:

name: Sir Lucian "Luc" de Aurelius
gender/pronouns: male, he/him
age: 27ish
sexuality: yknow, growing up in barracks and stables and generally not around any women,,,, he's gay.

personality: Luc is a fairly happy go lucky man with a positive attitude and confidence that is difficult to meet. He enjoys to dance in his free time (dancing by just doing a little jig on the spot) and to make up his own songs and tales to pass the time on long journeys. This general positive disposition makes Luc appear to be an easy target, a pansy amongst burly knights, but Luc is one of the best of them all. He has a brutal determination that's terrifying on the battlefield and a quick wit that always helps him weasel out if situations.
appearance: something kinda like this!! Luc has about chin length platinum hair that he takes very good care of. He enjoys putting it up into tiny ponytails; his favorite way to keep his curtain bangs from his face is to tie his hair into a "unicorn horn" right above his forehead. Luc is tall, about 6'0, with a naturally lean frame. He's built fast, not strong. He has plenty of scars all up and down his arms and back, but he's always made an effort to protect his face. For a lack of a better word, he's pretty and almost everyone knows it. He has a long, pointed nose and big blue eyes with pale eyelashes. His lips are thin and almost always pulled up into a natural grin. He looks nearly elvish despite his boisterous manner. He's always wearing silver and royal blue armor, a color earned through moving up the ranks. he has pale, porcelain skin that flushes easily when embarrassed.
brief backstory: Luc's mother is a renowned archer and his father was a massive man unfortunately killed in the throws of battle. It was no issue getting him to become a page, then a squire, and then eventually knighted. Growing up, Luc was bullied for being so "girlish". He loves music and the arts and a good story, the other boys often calling him "bard" instead of by his name or rank. Despite the teasing, Luc doesn't have many true enemies, but the few enemies he's obtained would stop at nothing to see his pretty head on a platter.
other??: Luc's favorite weapon is a glaive, but when he's in close quarter combat, he'll use a short sword. He also has a horse named Daphne, and he spoils her with apples and sugar cubes. He always likes to keep a small whistle and flute in his bag beside his weapons. It helps him keep his humanity when times are darkest.

he’s amazing!!! I love him. I’ll have mine up soon!! ^-^

name: Sir Arthur Galahad
gender/pronouns: male, he/him
age: 29
sexuality: he has never really seen what all the hype in relationships is, nor had much interest in being in one (he is biromantic and borders on asexual)

personality: Arthur may not be a rude fellow, but he often appears standoffish when you first meet him. Quiet, distant, serious, and focused, he doesn’t tend to go out of his way to make friends. That being said, he is very respectful of others and has a strong sense of morality and duty. He tends to make friends slowly, but once he does he becomes very attached and very loyal to them. He struggles to process most of his emotions and tends to bottle things up. With those he loves, he is extremely protective of them and likes to show his care towards them in small, subtle ways. He is cynical at heart but tries not to express his pessimistic attitude too often, as he doesn’t want to cast a shadow over those around him. He does tend to try to be the “realist” in any given situation though. He has a great deal of self-control and, although he has a temper, is very good at keeping it in check.
appearance: Arthur is a bear of a man, standing at 6’4” with strong, broad shoulders and a muscular, solid build. He has lightly tanned skin, weathered and chapped by the elements, and scarred from years of fighting and experience. The most noticeable scar is one that runs diagonally from his right cheek and across his mouth, ending at his left jaw.
He has light hazel-green eyes, thick brows, prominent Roman nose, thin lips. His hair is collarbone length, coarse, and a dark auburn-brown color, and tends to be quite messy and unkempt. He pulls it back into a half-ponytail most of the time.
His armor is heavy— a dark silver, almost black, with red accenting.
brief backstory: Arthur’s mother died when he was only a boy, and his younger brother merely an infant. Arthur’s memories of his mother are faint, but he holds them close to his heart. His father was a gruff man, harsh, but well-intentioned. His father, also, was a knight, and initially the reason Arthur himself would, over time, work his way up to becoming one. His father instilled a strong sense of duty and courage into Arthur from a young age, something that he carries with him even until now.
other??: Arthur tends to carry a longsword, but he also is skilled with an axe and has been known to wield one in the past. His armor is heavy, but he tends to fight strong, standing firm, and like a tank rather than being swift and agile. He rides a strong roan colored horse that’s not longer in his prime, but Arthur’s too attached to let go of. Despite being extremely attached to his horse, he only refers to him as “The Horse.” He will probably be extremely depressed when The Horse eventually passes away.

The clashing sounds of battle surround the fields. Divided into teams of red and blue, men swing their weapons and dodge beneath crushing blows. They trade opponents on the dime, twirling around comrades to meet a different blade. The Queen watches carefully from her balcony, coiled black hair pulled nicely from her face, the shadow of it accented with the silver of her royal crown. Her steely brown eyes watch each of the soldiers carefully, scrutinizing their posture, form, choice of sword–occasionally she'll mutter a small command to her closest advisor, the girl with the wide glasses quickly scribbling down whatever the queen's whim had been. Not a word she mutters is heard from the warriors, their focus far too set on ensuring a blade won't meet their throats–However, no blood has been drawn, but bruises have been traded. Wind is knocked out of the most burly of men, crouching on the floor to catch their breath. Their match donned in the opposite color would take their helmet as prize, the unmasked men sulking to the sidelines as soon as they're ejected from the brutal spar.

Eventually it's finally whittled down to two–a lean, laughing man donned in blue against a red knight four inches taller and twice as broad. The first of the men laughs as he spins his glaive, taking a long, slow stroll around his final opponent. He has fourteen strands of red hair mixed with the blue plume of his helmet, trophies for each man he disarmed throughout the event. One of the men from the sides, a seething brute in red, glares at the champion in blue. "Watch yourself, bard!" he shouts. "Wouldn't want to get your pretty face dented!"

The man, the bard, the champion, only rolls his eyes beneath the silver of his helmet. "Really, Arthur, you would think that they would understand by now." Finally acting, the man, Sir Lucian de Aurelius, swings his glaive, only to have it clash against Arthur's sword. "No matter how much ridicule they throw at me, I will simply always be superior." He shrugs as if it were the most obvious fact on earth. "They spend their nights yearning for my hair and talent." He laughs at that and attacks once more, but he doesn't intend for it to be any sort of lethal blow. He leaps over a low attack, rolling to his side as he comes down to avoid a harsh slice straight into the ground. "Should I write them a poor pity ballad? One that I can play on my tiny, tiny violin?" Another roll. He abandons his glaive in favor for a short sword, quickly parrying an incoming blow.

(and then I'll let you pick who wins between Arthur and Luc!!)

(heckin' crisp starter!! also I chose who I thought would win realistically given the situation)

Of all of the knights Arthur would've chosen to face one-on-one, Sir Lucian de Aurelius probably would have been his last choice. It wasn't personal, really— no, not at all. But it was certainly an issue of practicality. Arthur tended to use his power and strength to overcome his opponents, or to at least become an immovable object that could take their blows and dish them back out three times as hard. Generally, it was a good strategy— one that had helped him best sixteen knights— and the best one he could pull off given his bulky frame. But, as all things do, it had its weaknesses, and against opponents who possessed an exceptional deal of speed and agility, these weaknesses showed the most.

Such was the reason Lucian was not an ideal opponent.

Arthur took another swing at Lucian, one that the swift knight in blue parried. The larger knight snorted dryly at Lucian's comment, but made no effort to make small talk. He completely ignored the knights on the sidelines, uninterested in their jabs towards either him or his opponent. He managed to deflect an attack from Lucian, a bead of sweat forming on his brow from exertion, and took the opportunity to swing. Back, and forth, back, and forth— Arthur's heavy longsword dealing powerful blows, parried and dodged with great skill, and Lucian's quick shortsword, making swift strikes, deflected at the last second with more force than necessary.

Arthur could be fast when he needed to, but Lucian was much faster. While Arthur considered himself to be more durable in the long-run, durability likely wouldn't bring him to victory in this particular instance. His movements became a bit sloppier, and a bit slower, as he tried to keep up with Lucian's light footwork. The battle dragged on for several long minutes at the two skilled knights fought, but, Arthur paused, an attempt to pace his breathing and steady himself, and unintentionally created an opening. Faster than Arthur could deflect or dodge, Lucian gained the upper-hand.

(asdklfj thank you)

Quick on his feet, darting from the left to the right, Lucian has no issue dodging Arthur's heavy blows. The longsword's reach is too far to do much damage, Luc's leather and silver armor like a feather compared to the burden of Arthur's iron and steel plates. Only sparing a brief glance to the scrutiny of the queen, Arthur knows that to win this would win him more prestige and title than ever thought probable… Well, of course, he's hardly in this just for the glory, but it certainly is a plus. Luc manages to deliver quick jabs to the chest of Arthur's breastplate, forcing him back and back onto his last leg.

He keeps his distance as Arthur takes a moment to catch his breath, Luc's eyes gleaming beneath the shield of his helmet as he lunges, throwing up the hilt of his glaive and driving the blunt straight into the chin of Arthur's helmet. The clattering sound rings through the area as Luc then sweeps the polearm to knock Arthur straight off his feet. As he falls, Luc reaches over to snatch the scarlet plume, ripping the helmet straight from his friend's head as he's forced to the ground. Short sword pointed at his throat and helmet dangling from his grip, Luc nudges his faceplate to allow Arthur to see his sunshine smile. "I think I got you there, old friend." There's a scattered applause, a sneer from the brute in red, and a nod of approval from the Queen. She mutters another brief message to her advisor, the girl nodding feverishly before bustling away from the tall balcony.

Dropping the helmet and weapons, Luc offers a hand to Arthur and assists the man to his feet. "Quite a battle, wasn't it?" He inquires, raising his eyebrows as he's the last to remove his helmet. Still standing beside his ally, Luc looks up to the balcony, the Queen turning on her heel to disappear into the stone walls of the palace. Luc purses his lips and tilts his head. "Why do you think the Queen wanted to watch in on that one?" He nudges Arthur's ribs with the corner of his elbow. "Usually she leaves our training oversight to the generals."

(we're barely into this but I already love these guys)

"Fair and square," Arthur replied dryly as he accepted Lucian's offer to help him up. Someone unfamiliar with Arthur's tone and disposition might have mistake his words for being somewhat bitter, but those who had spent much time around him would recognize that was just how he usually spoke. Truth be told, he wasn't at all happy with having lost— but it was a fair battle, and Lucian came out on top. Simple as that. Any frustrations he held about the outcome were directed at his own performance rather than Lucian.

Arthur swiped back several loose strands of hair from his sweaty forehead and followed Lucian's gaze to the balcony. "I'm not sure. Wondered that myself. Think it's safe to assume something important is going on for her to personally oversee this match." He glanced at Lucian. "If any one of us hears word of what's going on, I would assume it would be the fellow with the best performance." He stepped over to retrieve his fallen helmet and rolled it around once in his hands before tucking it under his arm.

(they're so silly)

"I would have to assume it would be something important granted she called the entire army to spar." Luc studies the balcony for a few more moments before finally turning away to meet his friend's eyes. "Maybe a promotion, or a new selection for the royal guard–" A shrug. "Who knows what'll happen in the coming days."

Almost as soon as he mentions it, the mousy advisor from the balcony scuttles onto the trampled grass. She adjusts her wide glasses then runs her fingers through her short hair, nearly dropping her small roll of parchment in the process. "Uhm, Sir Lucian de Aurelius, sir, I have a request from the Queen for your auidence–" Her large brown eyes flit from Luc to Arthur. "Well, uh, she has a quest of sorts for you."

Luc's eyes widen as he presses a hand to his chest. Him? Certainly it can't be him–well, who else could it be? Luc's the best knight out of this bunch, unconventional and fast and hardly what an opponent would expect to find riding into battle. "Me?" he echoes, just to ensure he heard her correctly. The advisor nods violently, her glasses nearly falling right from her nose. "Alright–" he drawls, sparing the smallest of glances to his right. A quest certainly shouldn't be… terrible. How hard could it be?

"Follow me, Sir," the mousy advisor quietly instructs, nervously giving the rest of the neighboring knights a brief once over. She turns quickly and scuttles away, Luc having to startle to get himself in motion. Before he can get far, he quickly gestures for Arthur to follow. A quest is always best done in pairs, right? There's nobody Luc would want more than Arthur to watch his back in the midst of a battle. The grass quickly turns to a cobblestone path, which leads to a small staircase and into the first open-air floor of the palace. A small group of advisors donned in royal violet halt their conversations as the knight passes. From the grass, some knight calls after Luc. He doesn't hear more than pretty boy and bard, but he can clearly make out the intent.

Luckily, Arthur catches up with Luc quickly. "A quest?" he hisses. "Was this what all this was about?"

Arthur reached Lucian in a few long strides and matched his pace. "A quest," Arthur mused, and though his deep voice was deadpan, he almost smirked. "That sounds awfully grand. Dramatic, even. It would have to be an important one for Her Majesty to personally oversee which of us she'd send." Whatever small humor he thought he found in the situation faded a little as he turned slowly to glare at the other name-calling knights. Even if they weren't directed at him at all, the immaturity and irreverence of his fellow men grated against him. They called themselves knights, but as far as he were concerned, they were hardly anything close. Childish, dishonorable, and unfit to be called a knight. But that was an observation he would have to keep to himself.

"Should I really be accompanying you to see the Queen Herself?" Arthur reasoned aloud, slowing his pace as he entertained the thought of stopping and waiting behind altogether. The idea of disrespecting the Queen's wishes or overstepping any boundaries made him uneasy. Accompanying Lucian, the winner of the battle and the knight personally requested by the Queen, made Arthur feel as if he would be putting himself on a pedestal, elevating himself by suggesting that he had the right to approach the Queen without being requested. Plus, the thought of assisting Lucian on the quest had hardly occurred to him. He was following him because Lucian was his friend, and, of course, he was curious about the situation. "She didn't call for me, only for you. If it's meant to be a private thing, perhaps I should wait here."